


Chess Masters

by PumpkinPantaloons



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Chess Metaphors, Gen, Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinPantaloons/pseuds/PumpkinPantaloons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basso and the Queen of Beggars have been chess partners for quite some time - but now she's inviting the Master Thief's only real friend to a much bigger game... </p>
<p>Set during Garrett's missing year in Thief 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chess Masters

**Author's Note:**

> Playing the game I noticed Basso was key in Garrett’s involvement with the Primal Stone and Orion, and started wondering if he felt bad about it… or if it had been deliberate. Then I came across some info about his character, the side job where you have to steal back Basso’s chess piece, and the Queen of Beggars trailer for the game, and this came out of it.
> 
> *Boxman, in this context, is slang for a safe cracker
> 
> And as usual, these characters don’t belong to me

Basso watched the long, knotted fingers of his chess partner as she carefully shuffled her pawn towards its death. The Queen of Beggars was always more willing to sacrifice her pieces than he was, but to say she sacrificed them lightly would be underestimating her compassion, and her skill. He’d eventually realized that she played each match with the thought that there was something far greater at stake than a single pawn, or rook, or bishop, or knight – no, not even the queen – was worth the loss of the entire board.

Basso was waiting for the day where she would suggest that even the King could be sacrificed, just as long as there was _something_ remaining to keep the entire board from blowing away. He would have had no problem with that; the King was the weakest piece, after all. And so many kings turned out to be tyrants anyway.

The Queen of Beggars gave him a slow, sly smile. Basso could tell she was baiting him, because there wasn’t much to smile about. The gloom had firmly burrowed into the cracked, dark places of the City, taking root. Culling the livestock, as she had predicted (or anyone with half a brain could have, really), had done nothing to stem the spread of the disease, only serving to starve the poor even faster than the normal squalor dictated. His City was a real mess, it was.

“Are you still playing?” The Queen of Beggars chided gently, reaching for her tea cup with a steady hand, taking a small sip.

“Right, right,” Basso grumbled in response, reaching for one of his knights. He wouldn’t take the bait; if that’s what the pawn truly was this time. He couldn’t see the advantage of it, anyway. He set the knight back down in its new location with more deliberation than was necessary, but it was his knight, why _shouldn’t_ he take care with it?

The other knight wasn’t his, however. He’d lost his, (temporarily, he told himself) to a very sore loser, and so he had a knight from the white half of the Queen’s set. Her white army always went unused whenever he trudged out to the broken chapel for a game, as it was customary for him to bring the gold half of his own set with him.

The replacement piece looked awkward amongst his shining army. He wanted _his_ knight back.

“Basso,” The Queen of Beggars prompted him again, even though she knew damn well why he was hesitating, “I see I have upset you. Should we call the game for today?”

He met her suggestion with an irritated grunt, taking his stubby, Jenivere-pecked fingers away from his piece. She wasted no time in responding, clearly having been planning her next move (or six), while he hesitated. He grunted again. “He’s my friend- not that you’d ever get him to admit it out loud,” Basso let out a small laugh, just imagining the scowl he’d be getting right then if the subject of the conversation were with them. But he wasn’t, couldn’t have been, and bringing him back was the only part of the Queen of Beggars’ idea that he liked.

Basso made his next move, making the gesture seem as absentminded as possible. While the Queen of Beggars was a better over-all strategist, he was the better bluffer, and anyone who’d tell you that misdirection wasn’t a part of chess could kiss his arse; and his opponents did, frequently. “And I don’t like manipulating him, especially not after what happened.” 

The Queen of Beggars’ hand hovered over what she was pretending would be her next move, instead of addressing the implied barb; she had been the client for the theft of the Primal Stone.

“Besides,” Basso added, watching the shift in the deep crags of the old woman’s face, “the poor guy’s pretty guileless. Lying to him kinda makes ya feel like you’re kicking a puppy, ya know?”

The woman who claimed she was as old as the City (which he wasn’t entirely sure was a lie), chuckled; even as she made a play with one of her black knights. “It is a consequence of not wanting to admit to himself that he wants to see the good in people.”

“Can ya blame him though?” Basso grumbled back as he responded to the changing landscape of the game with a move of his own.

The Queen of Beggars sighed, leaning back in her worn, wing-back chair, folding her hands in her lap as she contemplated the board. She’d never given him a satisfactory answer as to how she could see the pieces, but vagueness wasn’t exactly surprising with her. In the end, the only thing Basso really cared about was the result, she was at no disadvantage when it came to the game.

“I understand your concern,” she responded, her tone gentle, and Basso instantly knew she actually did, “but believe me, he is the key that we need to free The City.” She raised her hand before Basso had a chance to interrupt, “I cannot give you the details, but you see the corruption around us, you know something must be done, or soon there will be no room left for the luxury of kindness, of sentimentality, because there will be nothing left at all.” The Queen of Beggars used the hand she’d moved to still his tongue to send another pawn into danger.

Basso covered the shiver from the bolt of ice that shot down his spine with another short, dry laugh, “A bit on the dramatic side don’t cha think?”

She did not smile this time. “Do you really think so?”

He huffed. “No, of course not, I’m not blind-” Basso froze; hand over his pieces, “Uh…”

The Queen of Beggars chuckled that time, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He still kicked himself internally at the verbal fumble – not that it would be fair to call her blind anyway. He resumed his action, moving a bishop into place. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, then. What do you need me for?”

“I need a boxman. You can forge a key with greater skill than I-”

“If I know the lock,” Basso interrupted, capturing her knight. He closed his fingers around the smooth contours of the black piece polished to an almost unnatural shine by the passage of time and continued use.

The corners of his opponent’s eyes crinkled, and he knew that she was very focused on her sacrificed knight. “I will show you the lock,” She responded slowly, almost as if she were distracted by it. “Call him down from the Clock Tower. Once my preparations are complete, he will come to you. And then it will be your game.”

 “When?” Basso knew he hadn’t put the captured piece down yet, but for some sentimental, probably metaphorical, way-over-his-head reason, he wasn’t ready to yet.

“When it is time,” was her serene, wholly unhelpful response.

“When you bring him back?” Basso pressed, unable to keep the hesitant hope out of the question. He uncurled his fingers, staring at the knight lying in the palm of his hand.

A good boxman didn’t let his key break in the lock.

Maybe he was still a good boxman.

Basso set the borrowed white knight in the graveyard, in place of the knight the Queen of Beggars had been too careless with. Now her black knight rode with his gold army.

The Queen of Beggars smiled, clearly pleased with his decision. “Yes,” she said, muted delight in her tone, “when we bring our Garrett back.”


End file.
